


Association Rule

by CatherineFox



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe, Angst, College Student Stiles, Depression, M/M, Professor Derek Hale, Suicidal Thoughts, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-03-11 05:59:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13518006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatherineFox/pseuds/CatherineFox
Summary: A Teacher/Student AU I really needed to write, not as well as I had imagined it, but as best as I could.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> It's been so long since I've posted anything! I've forgotten how to add a new work, almost!
> 
> I am not going to rant a lot, I just wanted to say that before reading **please look at the tags for any warnings and/or triggers** , also that this work is not betad (so, point out any errors you might find), I have the rest nearly ready (thus, I will not drag this story out) and I am horrible with the tags (so, if I've missed something you might think should be noted, write it in the comments and I'll add it).
> 
> Please, ignore the title. Haha.
> 
> Enjoy the read! ^_^

What Stiles hates more than waking up at the crack of dawn, is having a class he loves when he needs yet another cup of coffee to be his fully functioning self. Dr. Derek Hale’s class is one which fits all the previously described criteria. Machine learning CS229 is by far the best subject Stiles has in the ongoing semester, and he has zero regrets regarding his choice, except for the time slot. That, and maybe, the slight issue of _professor call me Derek_ being a complete man in every sense of the word.

When Derek had first walked in the auditorium, Stiles hadn’t been able to believe his eyes. Not only had the much talked about Doctor Hale proven to be absolutely stunning, in the way he could easily quit academia and he would have houses flounder around him to get him signed as a model, but he had also carried himself as approachable and with a sharp sense of humor. What Stiles respects most about Doctor Hale is that the man knows how to make lectures entertaining enough, and equally as motivating, thus, unintentionally urging students to research each topic additionally. It was difficult not to love the class from the very start, and even more so, not to love Derek.

Because, Stiles does. Love him. And, as his luck always rains down on him; a second time around, he has managed to fall in love with a person, who could never love him back. And, it has nothing to do with Derek being his professor, and every bit with Stiles not being the loveable type. He has always known it to be so deep down, but it doesn’t stop it from hurting like hell each time it happens. He doesn’t suppose being let down easy would ever be a manageable sting, so he set himself out to never let his emotions show after the first time his heart was broken. After the lesson he got with Lydia, he never subjects to his whims to observe more than it is needed, and avoids wrapping his mind up in what could be. He finds it easier that way.

When it comes to Derek, Stiles imagines it would hurt more if Derek is supportive and understanding in the face of the obvious, rather than being angered over it, the latter a case which Stiles knows Derek incapable of. So, he keeps his distance and tries not to breach the borders of professionalism between them. He speaks with Derek only when necessary, and with as little familiarity as he can manage. There are exceptions, albeit rare.

“Mr. Stilinski, if you could stay after class. I would like to discuss your project idea.”

Stiles sinks into his seat. He had avoided speaking with Derek before making up his mind with regard the topic and submitting it, though now it seems he had done so in vain. Stiles picks up his pen, presses the cap over his bottom lip and chastises himself for not discussing it with his professor in the first place. He can’t properly focus on the lecture from that point onward, thoughts swirling as to why Derek asked a discussion of him.

When Derek dismisses class, Stiles remains slouched in his seat, expectant. As Derek is packing up his notes at the front of the room, Stiles closes his laptop down, packs it and zips his backpack. He strides down towards his professor’s desk with fake determination, worrying his lower lip between his teeth at his professor’s turned back.

Derek looks up when Stiles is by him and meets his student’s gaze. “You don’t mind walking with me to my office? I have a meeting in ten.”

Stiles shakes his head vehemently, his nerves getting the best of him. “Not at all, professor.”

“You know, you are the only student who still calls me professor. I don’t mind it, per say.” He smiles at Stiles in understanding, eyes glinting with amusement. Stiles is once again struck speechless at the sincere openness Derek’s expression carries. “Makes me feel a little old. In seriousness, I used to do so myself, when I was in your place. Though I believe conversation would flow much easier if you were to call me by my name.”

“I find it more comfortable this way,” Stiles states, offering a half-truth in response, with hopes he won’t afflict insult to injury, the injured party being himself, clearly. Gods, he needs Adderall. “If it is alright?”

“Of course. I will never insist on it again.”

They walk in silence, and Stiles can’t help noticing the warmth radiating from the other man. Derek is the kind of person who would easily attract the attention of the most disinterested individual. A solid arm brushes against Stiles, and he does his best not to flinch at the contact or pull Derek against him until they are crowded along the closest wall. His heart is wildly thudding in his chest, a mix of anticipation and nervousness; and, his stomach is lurching in anxious displeasure and the rising tide of arousal. Stiles engulfs a sharp breath, followed by a hissing exhale, but his professor doesn’t inquire. Derek probably has too much on his plate to deal with him as well, and the fact he offered to give Stiles the time of day spoke how the man valued all his student’s interests. Stiles is at awe of his dedication, as much as to walk quiet and spare him from the rattlings his brain would no doubt provide were he to open his mouth.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Derek offers, as he pushes the door of his office open.

“Thank you.” Stiles drops his backpack by the chair, as he flops down on it. Waiting for Derek to settle, his mind focuses on the fact he feels comfortable in his seat, but not in Derek’s presence. There, he is uneasy.

“I recall you didn’t consult with me over your project topic, but there are a few issues I would like to address.” He pauses there, perhaps for effect, but Stiles has no suitable answer to give. He keeps his eyes firmly locked with Derek’s, and says nothing. “It is mentioned in the syllabus the final project has to be data oriented. Audio and image processing are not permitted.”

It takes a moment for Stiles to catch up. “Oh… Yes, of course. I will change my topic right away. I… I will send a new proposal by tonight.” He reaches for his backpack, considering the matter settled.

Derek speaking up keeps him riveted in his seat. “Stiles.” The sound of his nickname leaving Derek’s lips comes as a shock to his senses. Especially since he had never given it to the man. “If I wanted you to change something, I would have simply emailed you.”

“Then?”

“Your topic is powerful, and even though it is image processing, I am willing to allow you to work on it.”

“Really?”

“You want to classify brain tumor on patient’s results. I would never oppose to that.” He pauses, as if he considered whether he should go on or not. “Not to mention, you have the largest dataset on the topic I have ever seen. And, it is not one I could find online. Which leads to the question. Did you gather the information all by yourself?”

Stiles fiddles in his seat a moment, stirring his shoulders in a snake-like movement. “Not completely. I mean, I had help. My best friend’s mum works at the hospital. She knows a lot of people around the world, so when I asked her if she could help, she reached out to her contacts. About a week later, I had more info and pictures than I had expected. I sorted it out later.”

Derek’s brows furrow, eyes widening in surprise. His voice is extremely inquisitive. “When did you pick this topic?”

“Uhm, when I read th- the course info,” Stiles admits, cheeks pinking with shyness. His eyes are distinctly mapping out the not-so-interesting pattern of Doctor Hale’s office’s rug.

“This is not just a class project for you, is it?” When Stiles doesn’t answer, Derek smiles his reassurance and nodding, he states, “No matter. Here’s the deal, I will let you work on this, if and only if you promise me that every time you get stuck somewhere, you contact me for help.”

Stiles’ gaze snaps up to meet his professor’s. “Okay.”

“And, another thing.” He leans forward. “I am by no means trying to undervalue your abilities with what I am about to say, but if you can’t manage this topic for whichever reason, and want to take up something less complicated, you let me know. I am not going to think any less of you for it, I promise.”

A knock reverberates from the door. Stiles launches out of his seat. “Yes, professor. I presume that is your ten o’clock.”

“I believe so.” Derek’s lips quirk in amusement. “We’ll talk more another time. In the mean-time, if you need anything, mail me.”

Stiles throws his backpack over his shoulder and heads for the door, when Derek calls out, “Oh, and Stiles.”

“Yeah.”

“Run the data before our next class. I have a feeling your computer is not going to do a good job out of processing that monstrosity fast, so I might need to help you with that.”

“Yes, sir.”

And, with that, Stiles exits Doctor Hale’s office as hastily as he can.

 

Lydia is an unforgivably evil human being. Thus, Stiles is firmly set on repeating those words for the nth time in a row in hopes she will finally react to hearing them said, when he collides against a very firm, not much taller body. He whirls around with an apology on his mind, but short-circuits when he finds himself face to face with Professor Hale – who is dressed in a Henley, decorated with John Varvatos sunglasses hanging on the u-necked shirt.

“Hi,” he squeaks, his hand waving an aborted twitch.

“Hello, Stiles. How are you?” Professor Hale’s ears turn pink as recognition sparkles in his eyes, ensuring Stiles that had the man been without beard, his cheeks would be coloring crimson as well. As it is, at least he is not the only one embarrassed.

“Good. Shopping.” Every word appears redundant on his lips. “And, you?”

“Great. Thinking about how I want the earth to swallow me.”

Stiles feels ridiculous for the thumbs up jolly wiggle he does. He can’t be sure why his weird reaction surprises him, as he is never able to control his awkwardness. “Great, so we are going to ignore the fact we met in a lingerie shop.” It hurts knowing he is being seen as a strange kid once more, nonetheless.

“I am here with my sister,” his professor elaborates, his finger’s jabbing directed somewhere behind his back. As if he can sense where his sister is, without sparing a look.

“I am here with my friend. She is pushy.”

“Oh, I know the pain.”

“Good!” Stiles vigorously nods.

Derek absentmindedly repeats the motion. “Great.”

Helplessly, Stiles murmurs, “Still awkward.”

Nothing could have readied Stiles for Derek’s cackling. It is a wonderful sound.

“You know, Stiles?” he prompts upon easing the cackle into a smile, which equally blinding. “It tells me, we need new company.”

As Stiles has no idea how to reply to those words, he is grateful for the incoming company. The brown-haired, model-like female wraps her arms around Derek’s shoulders and clasps them over his chest, laying her chin down over his right shoulder. She smirks at Stiles knowingly, as if she knows something he doesn’t, which is illogical considering they have never met, but possibly true if to be determined by the spark in her eyes.

_There’s the family resemblance – tall, dark and mind-numbingly handsome._

“Der-bear,” she murmurs, not taking her eyes off Stiles, “I didn’t know you had acquaintances in lingerie stores.” Intense is one of the words which Stiles imagines would describe her accurately.

The man in question rolls his eyes, making Stiles wonder how he have never seen Derek do so before. It seems to be a second nature, as natural as breathing, at the moment. Exasperated, his professor offers, “If I visit any more with you, I am sure I will make some. Stiles, however, is not the gay clichéd panty-wearing friend you are so desperately looking for.”

Stiles can’t hide the blush at the words, which give him _ideas_. Which he is _not_ supposed to have. He swallows dumbly.

Unperturbed, Derek continues, “He’s a student in my CS229 class, and has as infuriating a person in his life as I do in mine. Apparently.”

“Oh, please. You love me.”

Derek’s brows climb up, as if to say _‘Not really’_.

They are expressive, the younger man observes, unsure how he had missed that before. Stiles is glad he doesn’t have time to delve there on that particular thought, as he has to direct all his attention to Laura once her smirk turns on him. “Now, this is the infamous Stiles.”

“Don’t harass him, Laura.”

“You, brother of mine, are going to make him think I am a horrible person.”

“You are,” Derek deadpans.

Laura doesn’t even flinch at the words. “Nice to meet you, Stiles. I am Derek’s older, infinitely wiser and more socially capable sister.”

“Nice to meet you too, Laura.” Stiles is proud that his voice doesn’t waver and betray how unnerved he is.

“Since my brother here didn’t have the answer,” she pats Derek’s shoulder slowly. “Can I ask something?”

“I have a feeling you will, answer as I may. So, sure.”

“That name of yours is not a name, is it?”

“No, but Professor Hale’s struggle to pronounce my actual name off the class list happens more often than not, so that’s why I use Stiles. I would change it, but it reminds me too much of –.” His mouth snaps closed with a determined click. “Anyhow, not my given name, no.” He finishes in mortification, cheeks blotched red. Laura is faintly smiling at him, but Derek’s forehead is creased, and Stiles isn’t sure what his professor is thinking. He can only hope Derek doesn’t think he is flirting with his sister, because he would never. He knows when something is far out of his league, and besides he already has that incurable, always-present, gnawing crush on Derek. He gnaws on his lip.

“Well, he is adorable, isn’t he? Handsome, too.”

Stiles head jerks up. _Did she just -?_

“Laura!”

“What? He is! Don’t tell me you can’t see it.”

“First, you know the physical has no influence on me. And, second, he is my student. I am not going to grade that.”

Stiles’ lashes flutter towards Derek. _What?! Derek is asexual? I could have done without knowing that._

He shrinks in on himself, when Lydia’s voice rings through the shop. “Stiles, what use do I have of you here, if I have to yell for you?” Judging by the fierceness behind it, she is still in the dressing room.

“Sorry, I have to go. It was nice meeting you, Laura. Bye, professor.”

Stiles has time to think of the day only when he is under his covers late that evening. And, he wonders at Derek’s asexuality. He knows it is not body type related, but a shame given Derek’s sculpture-like appearance. Stiles would run his hands down Derek’s torso, up along his back, and scrape over his pecks. He would kiss every sumptuous patch of skin and – shit.

Stiles throws the covers off his body and fires up his laptop, aiming to finish some part of his project as a better alternative to either dreaming and drooling over his unattainable professor, or an angry, self-pitying jerk off session featuring his unattainable professor.

 

Stiles lands his fist down on the laptop before him. What Scott doesn’t know, won’t hurt him. And, the punch was largely subdued by Stiles’ dampened mood.

A familiar, strangely soothing at the moment, voice comes on his left. “I have it on good authority punches will not boost up the processor’s speed.”

When Stiles looks up, Derek inquires, “Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all, professor.”

Derek drops his handbag on the table, and pulls up a chair. Stiles waits for his professor to have a seat before saying, “Scott is on some seminar and needed a laptop with an HDMI socket. When he was buying this shitty excuse of a laptop, I wasn’t allowed to comment on the rubbish choice, and now he packs up my laptop and says this is just as good as mine. I can’t even install Anaconda, let alone run the data here. It is going to jam before I even open Spider. I will be better off running this on a freaking Pentium.”

“I am sure everything is just so, up until that last comment.” Derek is chuckling, and Stiles blushes crimson at his word vomit.

“Believe me, it feels like that is right, too.”

His professor hums, head cocked. “Why didn’t you tell him to find another’s laptop?”

“You don’t know Scott, okay? With his puppy dog eyes and cute crooked jaw, he is practically impossible to refuse.” Stiles flails his hands, and proceeds to give Derek Scott’s speech. “You know, Stiles, Allison is going. And, she asked me if I could take a laptop, so she could have her bow and arrow with her. She is gonna show me how to use them, you know? It’s gonna be awesome, dude. She is so pretty, Stiles, and I can’t refuse her. It’s not polite, and I really like Allison, in an incurable, heart-eyes obsessive manner. Please, please, be a bro.”

“Ah, so it was the bro code’s fault, then.”

Stiles assumes Derek is mocking him, but when he looks over Derek is smiling at him, understanding and sympathy embedded on his face. Stiles snickers, “Exactly! And, the only thing that works on this close to my satisfaction is Microsoft Office, so I am falling behind on my work.”

“I have a feeling Scott is going to pay when he gets back.”

“It has come to mind.” Stiles muses. “But, I am afraid of Melissa.” At Derek’s dumbfounded expression, he elaborates, “His mum.”

Stiles turns to the laptop only to find the battery dead, and the black screen actively mocking him. He groans, bowing his head over his forearms, and decides to go back to his dorm room and crawl under the covers of his bed to sleep off his angst and low spirits. He feels like crying, most of his patience lost already, or throwing a tantrum, in the likes of a five-year-old, and would if his company was only the silence of the library.

Stiles looks up with an excuse on the tip of his tongue, but Derek beats him to it. “I have papers to grade, but my laptop is fully charged and all the programs you need are already there. I’ve a power bank with me and a feeling I will spear that laptops demise, so if you have the data stored somewhere, do you want to work on my laptop while we are here?”

“Really? But, don’t you need to input the grades?”

“I can do that later, Stiles. Believe it or not, the grading is the difficult part.”

Stiles beams at Derek, who in return blinks at him. “Thanks, Professor.”

Finally getting something done, when he concludes his work for the day, Stiles is exhausted, with a thudding headache, expected after working a full-time staring into a computer screen, and ready to sink in bed, after a relaxing shower. He is smiling as he steps out of the library, with Derek high at his trail, and breathes in the chilly, night air.

Stiles gazes up at the stars and rolls the kinks in his shoulders. “I’ve not done this much work in a week. Thank you, professor.”

“I am glad I could be of help.” Derek smiles at him, partly-shy, seemingly a rare smile he gives, or so it appears to Stiles. “Remind me, if I should forget, to bring you a graphic card for the processing job, okay?”

“Okay.”

Derek’s brows furrow and Stiles is suddenly overwhelmed with appreciation for his conversation-able eyebrows. He wishes he could have an ability to convey words through expressions, but people don’t seem to follow his track of thoughts as he would wish for them to. He is aware Derek will ask him a question, before it comes, but is thrown off by its content.

“For how long is Scott away?”

“Hmm, for a little over a week?”

Professor Hale nods. “When you feel like working, you can drop by my office and I will let you borrow my laptop. It doesn’t have to be the project for my class you work on. Anything, okay?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“You don’t sound so convinced, and I mean it, Stiles.” Derek’s brows climb up his forehead, and Stiles smiles. “Just shoot me an email, to see if I am there.”

“I am not going to be imposing?” Stiles scrapes the back of his head, ruffling his hair.

“Not at all.”

“Okay, then. Good night, professor,” Stiles provides, waving awkwardly.

“Good night, Stiles.”

With those words Derek turns towards the parking lot, and Stiles heads home. He is in his room within ten minutes, dead weight as he drops in his bed and blacks out until the morning. If he doesn’t stop smiling until falling asleep, no one is around to see.

 

The lines are starting to blur together in a jumbled mess of letters and equations, as they usually do when a headache comes on gradually, and forces a way in so to grow in intensity, which makes Stiles close the book and throw it on the desk. He pockets his phone, ties his shoelaces and heads to the nearest park for a run.

Scott is not back from the seminar yet, so their room’s quell is not working with Stiles. He has no one to watch a bad movie with and laugh at the foolishness of it, a cold beer and a bowl of chips between them, which makes him realize just how much Scott really is missed. He is glad Scott is happy with Allison, it is his brother from another mother in question after all, but he can’t help but ask himself whether his friends really value him or is it just spend-the-time-when-there-is-no-one-else deal for every one of them. Allison is great, but Stiles has not spent quality time with Scott, playing games or watching a movie or anything, really, or, as rarely as it happens, studying, since his best friend met Allison. Lydia is there when it is either a great emergency, even when it is Stiles’ problem if he is honest, or a social occasion where she requires assistance and there is Jackson, the douche of her boyfriend, who has treated Stiles like trash since the day they have met, and Lydia has done nothing to stop him. Now she is not around.

He’s sweaty by the time those thoughts throw him in a whirlwind of weakness and a desire to crash to the ground and not get up, so he leans against the nearest tree and pants his exhaustion there. If he didn’t have his dad to think about, it would all be easily over with one extra pill of his Adderall. He can hear a voice in the back of his mind, sounding oddly like Lydia, calling him a moron. But, it would be a good way out, and he would not feel so alone and miserable and worthless all the time. He would see his mum again and hug her with all his strength, because it has been _too_ long. Tears wake in his eyes, and he pants harder. _He will not cry in a public place, for fucks sake._ It is a new low, and one, he is not willing to stoop down to.

“Stiles?”

He jerks up. “Professor Hale?”

“Are you okay?” The man’s brows are furrowed in concern, and Stiles gasps at the face of it. His dad aside, it has been ages since someone had felt concern for him. Lydia is not there and is dismissive when she is, Scott is as oblivious as ever. Stiles is torn between crying at the face of the honesty in Derek’s expression and leaping into his arms to let all, which he’s been holding up inside him, out.

Stiles staggers towards Derek, who looks ready to catch him if at any time he falls. He changes the topic, “What are you doing out here?”

“I felt like a run. From the blotched cheeks and heavy breaths, I assume you are here for the same?”

“It’s been a while,” the words are languid on his tongue. “I wanted to watch a movie at first, but Scott isn’t here. It’s kind of pointless to watch one alone.”

“Best roommate is the absent one?” Derek offers.

Stiles knows it is an unspoken rule for some students, but not him. Having someone in the room with him means not thinking, which in return means no urges to snatch his Adderall from the nightstand and have a debate with himself, which he did that very morning. “You free tonight, then?”

“Wha-. Yeah?”

“Okay, how about you go clean up and I do the same, and we meet in an hour in front of the cinema? I’ll bring the GeForce I promised you and then we catch a movie together?”

“Really?”

“Yeah, Stiles. Really.” Derek’s smile brightens his entire face, forms small crinkles at his eyes, and Stiles lips curve up at the corners, as he nods his confirmation. Once Derek walks away, he can feel his leg starting to bounce, and jogs back to his room.

Stiles passes the hour in a blur of anticipation and anxiety. He is drumming his fingers on his desk, something he hasn’t done in a while, and then picks up two pens and starts a pattern, which comes from a song he can’t remember the name of. He is on edge. It’s good though, his thoughts from earlier are misty and distant, and he is ardently expecting the meet with Derek.

Derek is already at the entrance and waiting for him, tight black jeans, a Henley and a leather jacket, which makes Stiles feel underdressed. Derek looks great, _date-night great_.

“Hey,” he greets, when in earshot.

Derek turns around with a smile on his face. “Hey, yourself.”

“Have you waited long?”

Derek shakes his head. “I just got here.” Stiles nods, huffing a breath, to which Derek responds, “Well, now, what do you want to see?” He motions for them to go in.

Stiles realizes, as they walk inside, the closest to a friend he has had in the last year is actually Derek.


	2. Chapter 2

He is on the phone with Lydia, when it happens.

He was telling her about his night out with Derek, how he was considering and fun, and how much he had enjoyed spending time with Derek in the capacity of a friend. She interrupted him there, and proceeded to explain something, the speech of which is still ongoing, “You always sound like this when you are crushing on someone. And, Stiles your crushes are deadly only to you, so tone it down a bit. Besides, you said he found you in the park panting, so that’s why he asked you out.”

Stiles gasps, but Lydia doesn’t hear or ignores, and his mind is already racing. _Of course, Derek wouldn’t go out with me for any other reason than pity, because he saw me so out of it and not because he wanted to. But, he had cared so much, it was so honest. While we were out, Derek didn’t hint wanting to be anywhere else. He had even hung up on whoever was calling him. Really._

His breaths are coming short, one hand is loose and listless around his phone and the other is shaking uncontrollably. His chest is tight, and his throat is closing up. Lydia’s voice sounds far, when she asks, “Do you understand what I am saying?” Stiles has no idea what it was she was saying to him, but he croaks, “Yeah, gotta go, Lyds,” and hangs up on her. She is going to throw a tantrum later, but in his state he can’t bring himself to care.

He darts into a hallway, which seems deserted, since the last thing he needs is uneducated, Jackson-like douchebags laughing at his panic attack. He tries to call Scott, but his hands are not cooperating. The phone drops out of his hold and clashes to the ground, where it scatters into pieces over the floor. He lands his fist over his thigh and pain seers through him, but his panic attack is still full-force. Tears sting at the edge of his eyes, he blinks to force them away, but they roll down his cheeks.

_Derek would never like me. No one ever likes me. Stupid, stupid to get my hopes back up again. I hoped he’d want to be friends._

“Stiles? Hey, hey, breathe, come on!” Derek’s face is blurry, his lips are moving, “Stiles, look at me.” There is a strong grip on his shoulders and Derek is raising and lowering them, mimicking the pattern of breathing, as he speaks, “In and out. Breathe. In. Out. There you go. Again.”

Stiles feels his eyelids growing heavy, so he closes his eyes. He doesn’t think about still being at university when he leans his head against Derek’s chest, which is firm, and relaxes. Arms wrap around his shoulders and he feels as Derek eases down to sit on the floor, leaning his back against the wall and pulls Stiles in. Derek is breathing in sync with him, his hug is not wavering in strength. The man is sitting there, as if he has nothing better to do with his time.

“Sorry,” Stiles murmurs when he starts feeling more composed, pushing away from Derek. He doesn’t want to keep him further.

“Nothing to apologize for.”

He scrambles to his feet and Derek rises with him, before helping him pick up his things. “I ruined your shirt.”

“It’s $20.” Derek’s smirk can be heard in his words. “If you want to buy me a new one.”

They keep silent afterwards, as Stiles runs a hand through his hair, sorts out his shirt to give the illusion of decency. Derek hands him his phone, now construed back together. He turns it on and is greeted with a missed call from Lydia. She will _bitch,_ but he ignores it, pocketing his phone.

“Thanks, Professor.”

Derek hums in response. He scratches at his beard thoughtfully, head tilted right. “Do you want to talk about it? Over coffee or something.”

_Oh, God._ “Don’t you have work?”

Derek checks his watch. “I was heading out. My evening is free.”

Stiles nods and together, side by side, they leave the university. Riding in Derek’s car is _awesome_ , though Stiles doesn’t mean it in any disrespect to his darling jeep. He states as much, which to his surprise is answered with Derek stating the Camaro is his first car, and will, consequently, never be expendable.

Once they order their drinks, Stiles loses track of the time. The conversation flows easily and uninterruptedly. Derek doesn’t ask about the panic attack, though that was the initial reason for the drinks, and consequently Stiles falls for him a little more. By the end of the evening, he feels more like his old, younger self. They leave once topics run out on them, and Stiles is unaware of how long he has spent in Derek’s company, until he checks his phone and sees time’s past midnight.

 

He feels self-conscious as Derek pushes the laptop towards him, reassuring him yet again he needn’t feel guilty for borrowing it. They are in his office, where Stiles has secured a spot on the small coffee table every day during the past week.

“Scott is coming back tomorrow. So, I will not be bothering you again, I promise.”

Derek sighs, rolling his eyes. “How many times, Stiles.” Stiles would be offended, but he has learned, having witnessed a phone conversation between his professor and his sister Laura, Derek sometimes does sound exasperated out of fondness. “Not bothering me.”

“I have a feeling you just sink in your seat and sigh relief every time I walk out of the door.”

Eyes squinting in conspiracy, Derek provides, “And, then, I lock my door in case you change your mind and decide to come back.”

“So, you admit it?”

“Yes, Mr. Holmes. You saw right through me, I confess.” Derek throws a shit-eating grin over his shoulder and then retires behind his desk.

As they had through the week, they continue their work, each his own, in silence. Stiles is lost in his project, finishing up his code for the neural network, when Derek’s voice startles him. “Lunch?”

“If I can have five minutes to wrap this up and run it?”

Derek nods. “Yeah, I need five minutes to sort through these papers, anyhow.”

Stiles bites his lip and turns to the screen, typing the final lines of his code and double-checking their accuracy. Satisfied, he clicks run and the console appears at the bottom of the screen.

“I am ready,” he informs Derek, picking up his phone and wallet, and rises to his feet. He stretches the torpor out of his body. Covering up a yawn, consequence of a turbulent night, he catches Derek staring at his ridden-up shirt. Stiles doesn’t know if skin exposure makes asexual people uncomfortable, yet doesn’t intend to ask his professor, so he fiddles with his shirt nervously and pulls it back down. When he looks up again, Derek is blushing and avoiding his gaze. Stiles ignores it, believing he is imagining the whole thing.

Derek locks the office after they exit, pockets his keys and together they head to the elevator. “Where do you want to go?”

Stiles offers, “Any suggestions?”  

“I know a good restaurant a ten minute walk away. If you feel like walking.”

On the way to the restaurant, they discuss Stiles’ project and when he tells Derek it is almost ready, his professor seems really impressed. Stiles might preen at his praises. Derek talks about a paper he wrote on a similar topic, though that had been data related, and Stiles enjoys every bit of experience shared with him. Of one thing he is sure, he would love to have the chance to continue working with Derek after graduation. He is the type of man comfortable with sharing his knowledge for the sake of expanding another person’s, and though there are many who are good teachers, the amount of those who do it so selflessly is rather small.

They arrive at the restaurant quickly, the comfort of the conversation seemingly shrinking the time spent walking. All comfort Stiles has been feeling drains out of him when faced with the clear luxury of the place, and the sense of belonging, which Derek has inflicted on him, dissipates when their tender’s informal greeting towards his professor dawns on him that Derek is highly-likely a regular customer.

“Professor,” he hisses, when Erica gives them a moment to decide. He grasps the menu and his eyes widen comically at the prices. “This is beyond my budget.”

“It’s on me.”

“Please, no. I can’t!” he is desperate to make Derek see that he _truly_ can’t. “Let’s just go somewhere else, please.” The last time he had had a meal in such a nice place, it had been his parents’ anniversary. The last they had spent together

“Stiles, relax. It’s on my tab.”

Stiles can’t. His heart lurches in his throat and he feels a panic attack fermenting on the horizon. Not spearing a second glance at Derek, whom he can’t face given the tears in his eyes, he springs out of his seat and sprints out the door. With no knowledge where he is going, he jogs a little further down the street and leans back against an unoccupied wall. His mum had been dressed in a wonderful blue dress, which color-complemented his father’s tie, and consequently a half-argument, half-discussion had been born of whether Claudia should change, so it wouldn’t seem as though they were overcompensating. His dad had assured her he was the town’s soon-to-be-Sheriff and no one would dare speak anything about a gun-carrying authority. Stiles smiles despite himself. It is a good memory.

When he looks up, Derek is close, watching him with an inquisitive frown on his face. “You okay?”

“Yeah, sorry about that.”

Derek looks disbelieving, but is also silent. Stiles explains, “Last time I was in a place fancy as that, it was my parents’ anniversary. The last they spent together.” He sucks in a breath, debating whether to share. Derek had been unbelievably respectful of his boundaries, had gone out of his way to cheer him up and make him feel safe, comfortable, and Stiles wants him to know. Needs him to. He motions with his hand and Derek silently follows. “My mum was a wonderful person and dad loved her with all his heart. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but my name is not Stiles. It’s a Polish monstrosity.”

“Mieczyslaw, yes, I saw it on the class roster.”

“I’m not going to ask how you managed that perfect pronunciation.” Stiles chuckles to drown his surprise. He glances at Derek, to find his cheeks flushed. The exertion of following Stiles out the restaurant, perhaps. “Anyway, my first name was my mom’s idea and just by how horrid it is, you can see how much my dad loved her. Oh, hot dogs! You want one – this is on me?”

Derek smiles. “I could eat.”

Between bites, Stiles continues, “She was diagnosed with frontotemporal dementia a month or so later. Practically, it means portions of the lobes begin atrophying. But, in reality, every patient is different. It has a different effect on people, some lose the ability to speak and some become impulsive or emotionally indifferent.” Stiles shrugs. “My mum, she couldn’t recognize me – God, I’ve forgotten how difficult it is to speak about this – during her last few days. Her own little Mischief, she used to call me that, you know.”

Derek sounds concerned, when he offers, “Stiles, you don’t have to talk about this, if you don’t want to.”

“I want to. It’s okay.” Stiles glances at Derek, smiles and bumps their shoulders. He notices only then Derek and he are nearly the same height. “Anyway, I was with her when she passed away. When dad got there they ushered me out of the room. I remember him crying in that gaunt hospital hallway, holding on to me as if I am about to slip out of his hands, as well. Melissa, that’s Scott’s mum, picked me up later and I spent that night with her and Scott. She was trying to make me feel better, Scott was fussing around me with video games and toys, but I couldn’t get the picture of my mum out of my hand. It was my fault, after all.”

An urgent, “Stiles, that’s not –”

Stiles waves a hand at Derek. “The panic attacks started soon after mum died. She had been my anchor, kind of like a werewolf’s – which, clearly I spend much time on the internet, but after her death the thought of her brought on panic and fear. Dad did his best, really. He worries a lot – even then, especially then. I was okay when he was at home, but once he left for his shift I would hide somewhere, in something. I needed the distraction. Dad needed healthy food, mum wasn’t there to prepare it anymore, so I started cooking. Little she taught me, I built on, and it got easier with time – the cooking, her absence, her death, her memory. This right now, it feels good talking about her and it hasn’t in a long time.”

He thumbs at the tear rolling down his cheek. “It’s good. I miss her.”

“That is understandable, missing her is normal.” A hand lands on Stiles’ shoulder. He pauses and turns to face Derek. “She is the reason for your project topic, isn’t she?”

“Yeah,” Stiles’ voice is thin, but before he can burst into tears, Derek’s arms wrap around him, pull him into a hug and don’t let go.

When Stiles pulls away, he comments, “I am sorry for spoiling our lunch.”

“You didn’t,” Derek insists. “I am honored you shared this with me.”

Stiles’ lips quirk, not quite reaching his eyes. But it does not matter, Derek will understand. Usually silences are uncomfortable, and Stiles babbles to fill them, but this one is anything but. They walk back to the university, easily, side by side. Derek says nothing, but the warmth raying from him is comforting, reassuring. _He is here._ There is no small talk to obscure the gravity of what has been said.

When they enter Derek’s office, Stiles moves to check the run result and throws his hands up in triumph, when he sees his program ran without any errors.

Derek clearly observes him, and inquires, “All done?”

“I have to perfect some parts, but it ran without a glitch.” He sticks an USB to transfer his code. “Also, I ran it on 10 samples, so I still have to recheck if there are some unclean samples.”

“I have a feeling you will finish that this weekend.” Derek sounds almost proud.

Stiles shrugs. “Probably, but I still have the accompanying paper to write.”

“That is a page or two on what you have worked with. It’s a ten minute job for you, considering you did everything on your own. I will post a sample on the course later.”

“When you get your laptop back?” Stiles offers.

Derek chuckles. “Yes, once my laptop is released from your custody.”

“I should go.” Stiles stands up and Derek jumps from his seat, “I didn’t mean –”

As much as Stiles would love to see Derek stutter and apologize, he decides against it and offers, “I know. But, I am finished, and even if I weren’t, I have class in fifteen. I need coffee to stay awake until 8.”

“Oh, okay.”

Derek sinks back in his seat, a blush high on his cheeks, above his stubble, and at the tip of his ears. Stiles packs his things up, takes his USB and zips his backpack. Throwing it over his shoulder, he finds Derek looking at him when he turns to wave at the man. Derek smiles, a small, private-like smile, and Stiles responds in kind. He doesn’t want to admit to himself he will miss studying in Derek’s office.

He also doesn’t want to admit Derek looks stunning relaxed back into his seat, with a small smile and his throat exposed.

“Thank you for everything, Derek.”

He doesn’t turn back at the distinct clutter of a pen against the table, nor the murmured response from his professor. And, if Stiles is smirking on his way to class, no one is there to see it happen.

 

The entire auditorium is silent, and it’s strange having his professor sitting amongst students. Derek is following him with his gaze, a small smile on his lips and nodding every once in a while, which Stiles sees when glancing his way.

Stiles has never felt so sure about any project, but having Derek reassure him everything would be alright has somehow induced confidence in him. He is smiling by the time he finishes his presentation and when he sinks into his seat, he grins at Derek, who gives him an almost unobservant quirk of lips.

He isn’t surprised to hear his grade is already decided, when he swings by Derek’s office. Oddly satisfied at his A, as he hadn’t felt for a grade in at least the past year, he provides, “How about a meal, Professor, on me?”

“You paid lunch last time. How about we go back to the restaurant and it is on me?”

Stiles waits for the dread at the thought to come, but there is nothing. He figures trying wouldn’t hurt and Derek would understand if he changed his mind later. “Only if I get to cook for you to pay you back.” He blushes when he catches the implication of his offer, but Derek is comfortable with it, as he only nods, unfazed.

Thing is, Stiles would love to go out on a date with Derek, because he is incredibly caring, exceptionally smart and seraphically handsome. His self-sacrifice is on an unachievable level, but it is honest and open. When he is helping, even if it is as little as a missed indent in Python, Derek simply lights up and he explains with passion. Stiles finds it fascinating that Derek blushed crimson when sharing he loved mysteries, books and movies, both. Stiles loves him for… _Stiles loves him._

_Oh shit._

“Stiles, you here? You look like you spaced out.”

Hoarsely, he responds, “Yeah, I’m back. Lunch!”

Derek chuckles at his eager departure from his office, thankfully unaware of Stiles’ turmoil and belated self-discovery. _Shit, this is going to be Lydia once again._

Lunch passes in a flash, he can’t focus much beyond Derek’s words and his own thoughts. Whenever Derek isn’t talking, Stiles thinks about how he loves him. It’s agony. He was fully aware of his crush at the beginning of the semester, but had never expected it to grow to proportions such as these.

The Stiles from a few months wouldn’t have dared to love, but he stops the thinking in its tracks and breathes in. Derek pauses, concerned. “You okay?”

“No. Yes!” Stiles stutters inelegantly. “I’m good. Just wanted to ask something?”

Derek nods slowly, confusion itched into his brows.

“I was wondering –” he starts, then swallows, then opens his mouth and blurts, “Go out with me.” He looks at Derek then, sees his professor is startled. “On a date? Tomorrow night?” Stiles is holding himself steady as much as it’s to his ability.

“I am sorry, Stiles,” Derek says and he doesn’t look at all as though he was truly feeling so. “I can’t. Not –”

Stiles is unable to listen further. He should have expected the rejection, but it strings more than it had with Lydia. That realization hits him, which only worsens it. Running a shaking hand through his hair, he mumbles, “Oh, okay. I will just get out of your hair now.” He walks away, ignoring Derek calling his name out.

_At least, I finished all my assignments for his class._ Stiles knows his thoughts are pitiful. He ignores them, as he stalks away faster. One more week and he will go home.

When he sees Derek walking a gorgeous, brown-haired woman, out of the restaurant where he had taken Stiles, the following day, with Derek’s arm wrapped around her shoulders and hers around his waist, his lips kissing the top of her head and both of them smiling at some inside joke, he breaks. This time Derek isn’t there to pick up the pieces and put them back together. He has a panic attack when he gets back to his room, crumbling to the floor as he closes his door. He rides it out with difficulty and calls his dad afterwards. He needs a comforting voice or he will make a horrible decision. When Scott returns to their room that night, Stiles pretends to be asleep. He knows it’s their movie night, but Scott wouldn’t understand if Stiles tried to explain. Stiles tells himself he doesn’t feel guilty, when Scott slowly sneaks out of their room.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone! 
> 
> I am so sorry for the delay. I finally got around to checking the chapter for errors. If there are any left, please ignore them or point them out.
> 
> Enjoy the read! ^_^

Lydia is lounging on his bed, legs crossed and her skirt ridden up. There had been times when Stiles would be staring at that image, eyes wide and lips parted. But, as much as his teenage self would have cheered, Stiles can’t find it in him to even smile. He misses Derek, desperately.

“I don’t even know what I was thinking asking him out.” He is packing up the lecture notes and materials of each class of the semester in a separate package to store them in his university-labeled bookcase. The books from his Machine Learning course are still stuffed in his desk’s drawer, as he can’t bring himself to take them out. He will, only when Lydia is out.

“I mean, I knew he was going to say no. I don’t know how, at that moment, I thought I might stand a chance.”

He closes his laptop, cringing when the music, he forgot was playing, dies off abruptly. He glances apologetically at Lydia, but she only waves him off. He pulls another course towards him, arranging his folders in the correct order.

“You know.” Lydia flips a strand of her hair, as she does when she decides to meddle where she doesn’t belong. It’s one of the reasons Stiles loved her for, loves her for – each with a different worth. “Derek is an asshole for refusing you.”

He shakes his head. “Lydia, it was his choice.” He shrugs, because what else can he say. Derek did have a right to choose. That doesn’t change just because Stiles didn’t like his answer. “Stay out of it. Besides, he is not an asshole.”

Lydia scoffs. That Stiles doesn’t like. “He is, especially after stringing you along for months.”

He faces his friend. “Lydia, drop it.”

“But-”

Stiles doesn’t know if it is her knowing tone what sets him off or if it is the few days of bitterness and wallowing and self-loathing. Something does, though. “You know what, Lydia? You, too, refused me, quite coldly and harshly, might I add. And, I came to terms with it time past. I got my message. But, one thing you didn’t do, and you should have done, is apologize. Even after we became friends, you never said sorry for laughing at my face when I asked if you were free to go out with me. I let that slide, repressed it and never brought it up. Derek did say sorry. And, that I respect,” he pauses, takes in a breath and proceeds, “I am grateful you are here, now. I am, Lydia. You are my friend, even though I sometimes think that is not how you see me, and I respect you so much, but I believe you take this friendship for granted. Everyone I know takes me for granted. The one person who didn’t, in a very long time and my dad aside, is Derek.” Only then he realizes his voice is high by an octave. He quells a little, as he adds, “Every moment he spent with me was unrushed and carefree. I am _never_ going to be angry, regretful or disappointed over spending time with him, because he taught me something valuable. The old Stiles would never have said this, because he would have thought that is how things should work, he wouldn’t have known better if he wasn’t shown. Me, right now, I am saying it and you have him to thank for it. So, think about it! When, and if, you decide whether you will dump watching The freakin’ Notebook for the thousandth time with Jackson, who has treated me as shoe-gum for scraping ever since he met me by the way, over hearing a friend out, let me know.” A little less forceful, he adds, “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to be alone, please.”

She leaves quietly, uncharacteristically so. Stiles knows she is probably hurt and aims to apologize for being blunt and harsh with her, when he has his temper under control. Though, in fairness, he spoke only truth.

Not more than a minute after the front door sounds closed, his dad leans against the doorframe and comments, “Don’t you think you went a little overboard?”

“I know I did, but it was all true.”

The Sheriff sighs, then takes a seat and level Stiles’ gaze. “That might as well be, but she came here to hear you out. You shouldn’t have done that.”

“I know, dad.” Defeat whisks into his voice.

“Listen, I know what happened with Derek has you a little shaken, but you can’t scorch everything else over one thing. I know that his no doesn’t have to be final.”

“Dad –”

“Claudia refused to date me at least ten times before going out with me.”

“Really?”

The Sheriff nods, landing a hand over Stiles’ forearm. “I didn’t give up, because she was worth every humiliating gesture and I knew she liked me, in spite of her refusals. She never told me why she said no all those times, though she mentioned she wanted to say yes the first time I asked her.” He smiles at Stiles. “I am not saying, it is the same with you and Derek. But, he was your professor, and that might have had some influence over his decision. I have a feeling that must have been a factor. And, if you had stayed, there might have been a closure.”

“So, you are saying, I am to blame.”

“No, I am saying mend it. Whatever is broken between the two of you, be the one to reach out and ask for the explanation you are owed. From what you’ve told me about Derek, and from what I know, he will not shut you out.”

“You know Derek?” Stiles sounded disbelieving.

“Hale, yes. He’s from Beacon Hills. Talia is his mum.”

Stiles squeaks. “CDA Talia?”

“Yeah.” His father smiles. “Derek is a good man.” John leaves Stiles to his thoughts, saying nothing more.

Stiles sinks to the floor in his empty room. Eyes blank as he scans his surroundings, looking for something to ground him. His mother’s picture is smiling at him from his nightstand, but it calls on memories of regret, guilt, which eventually lead him to thoughts of Derek. His blood is boiling with rage, at himself. Fighting between tears and screams borders insanity. Stiles is crawling with the desire to scratch at his skin, mark an external source of pain to blind the searing force with which his control is slipping between his fingers, the desperation which is crying _suicide_ at him. He can’t do that to his father. His dad, who always held him close despite the momentary worry and who would get him help if he knew of his depression, which is why Stiles hides it from him. From everyone else. He can still fight it, he will fight it for as long as he can. When he cannot anymore, well. He will think about it then.

 

“I found something,” Stiles announces, as he storms in his father’s office. He winces when the door thuds against the wall and his dad sends him a dirty look. The Sheriff is on the phone and he waves him into silence.

Stiles places the perp’s, _suspects, Stiles, we call them suspects_ , laptop on his dad’s desk and waits. He loves when he gets the chance to consult at the precinct. It’s a rare enough event that Stiles blood boils with excitement every time his dad tells him he has a laptop in need of dissecting. It’s a shame they don’t get that many cases which would require a technician, because Stiles would be perfect for the job. Even his dad agrees.

They had grown close to one another over the past year, after Stiles had told his dad about the depression he felt during his studies. Stiles never thought the Stilinski men could get closer, but he was proven wrong.

When John puts down the phone, he asks, “What have you got?”

“He has a registered storage unit at 1305 10th Street. It’s 10 on 20 feet and I’ve got the phone number.”

His dad is clearly surprised. “I gave you that laptop twenty minutes ago?”

“I know, I am awesome! I checked his deleted emails – idiot thinks if he deletes the mail, it’s forever gone!”

Sheriff’s brows rise up. “I think that, too.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. His dad is smarter than that and is only playing a game with him. “No, you don’t. I’ve taught you better.” He picks up the suspect’s laptop, closing it down. “I am not going to further comment on that, on the grounds you are looking for a way to get bacon for dinner. You are not getting bacon. Now, go and get this son of a bitch, dad.” He walks out the office with a smirk on his face. John follows him right out, calling out, “Language!”

“Sorry. Now, go and get this son of a bitch, father,” Stiles responds. “I’ll see you at dinner. Let me know how it goes. I’ll call you if I dig something else out. Bye, Jordan!”

“It was good seeing you, Stiles.” Jordan replies.

When Stiles gets home, he burrows into research on the guy and makes a mockery of his computer data into one paper’s worth. He prints out his findings to give his dad for the interrogation and then fires up his own laptop. He minimizes Atom, as he can’t work on quite an important project with as tired as he feels.

He checks his email on reflex and freezes when his eyes catch on a name he hasn’t seen in almost a year. _Derek Hale._ He hesitates, then opens the mail, heart beating in his chest.

_Hello Stiles,_

_I know it has been a while. I hope you forgive me for not writing sooner. Firstly, I wanted to congratulate you on your graduation, albeit a year late._

_I am also writing because I was looking over my CS229 course and am a guest lecture short. Your project from last year is, in my opinion, a great way of interesting my students in the topic of machine learning. It would be great if you could spare the time and drop by my classroom to show them how it should be done._

_Let me know what you decide,_

_Derek Hale_

As he finishes the read, his phone rings. He picks it up, without looking at the screen, with an unintelligent, “Ugh?”

“A little different from your usual greeting,” his dad says. “I prefer the overexcited version myself.”

Stiles is still processing the email. “Huh?”

“Are you okay, son?”

“What?” he questions, then, “Yeah, yeah, I am fine. Perfect. Awesome. Rocking!”

Silence follows.

“Aren’t you going to ask what we found at the unit?”

Stiles whirls in his seat. “Oh, yeah. How did it go?”

“We found what we needed. Did you find something on his computer?”

“Yeah, I have printouts. I’ll show you tonight.”

“Alright, and we will talk about your distraction over bacon later at dinner, okay?”

“Yeah, okay, deal.” Stiles hangs up. Five minutes later he is out of his daze and realizes his dad’s dinner request. He huffs indignantly, though he admits it is a point for the Sheriff. Thus, the decision to make salad for dinner to gain that point back is made.

He turns to his computer, clicks reply and stares at the blank screen, unsure how to begin. The cursor is mocking him, blinking on and off for few minutes, waiting for his decision.

_Hello Derek,_ he types, then deletes the words. He can’t bring himself to write with informality. He tries again.

_Professor Hale,_

_I am honored by you request and I would be happy to give a lecture when at your convenience. Send me details about the date and time, and I will clear my schedule._

_Stiles Stilinski_

He saves it as a draft, and closes his laptop.

He spends his time downstairs cooking, and over-thinking everything from the past year, until he hears his dad coming home.

John calls out. “I’m home.”

He waves at his dad, grins slowly. “Dinner’s on the table. I am gonna run upstairs, grab what I got on the perp.”

“Suspect!” his dad calls out after him. Then Stiles hears him groan along a muttered _God Damnit_ , and assumes he saw the prepared dinner. He smirks triumphantly.

He drops the file on the table on his dad’s right. “Nice try with the bacon.”

“I see you caught that.” The Sheriff grins at him, and it is moments like those, which tell Stiles how much he really is like his dad.

“Did you think you were gonna get away with it?”

John pulls a chair. “It was worth the try.”

“You want a beer?” Stiles asks.

“Sure.”

Stiles snatches two bottles from the fridge and places them on the table. He pops them open, one by one, with his teeth. His dad gives him a stern look, as he hates whenever Stiles uses his teeth to open beer, but Stiles waves him off. There is another time for that lecture.

“Derek sent me an invite to be a guest lecturer in one of his courses.” He forces out, abruptly. Well, stealth was never his strong suit.

“Oh!” the Sheriff provides ineloquently, and Stiles knows there is no need to further explain his distractedness. “And, will you go?”

“I don’t know. I want to, because he says my topic would be useful. But, I –”

“You are afraid how seeing Derek again will feel.”

Stiles hums. “Conflicted, too. He was the one who showed me I shouldn’t settle. And, that is the reason I later came clean to you about my depression. I know what is and what isn’t his doing, I am not a heroine prescribing worthiness, where there isn’t any. He wasn’t directly involved in me seeking help, but he is a huge part in my ability to firmly stand my ground now.” Stiles pauses. “But, dad, what if he isn’t the same person again?”

“You aren’t either. People change, it is natural, but you can’t lose anything if you see him.”

Stiles gulps from his bottle. “Except peace.”

“You are still interested in him?”

“I loved him. I never closed that chapter off fully. But, I have grown used to that feeling lingering deep inside me, I am afraid what will happen if it resurfaces again, or –” Stiles pauses, unable to say the words. “Or –” he tries again, but fails.

“Or, if you get your questions answered and have to close it forever?” His dad’s words are a question, but the Sheriff sounds sure of his observation. Talking about their feelings over an extent of a year enforced their mind-reading abilities, with regard to each other.

“Yeah.”

His dad places a hand on his, catches his gaze and places an idea in his mind with the words, “What if you end up being allowed to feel as you do?”

Stiles sighs. “I don’t know why I am being weird about this. He has a girlfriend.”

“He had one,” his dad corrects. “Or might have, from what you told me.”

“I have to go, don’t I?”

John nods. “If you don’t want to think back to this conversation when you are old and ask yourself why it didn’t convince you to go.”

The conversation spirals towards the case, but his father’s words nudge at him until he retires to his room. He sends the mail, disposes his laptop on the desk and drops in his bed. Strangely, he falls asleep easily.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of threw all I wanted in one chapter. I apologize for the long delay in publishing this.
> 
> Enjoy!!! ^_^

He and Derek correspond a couple of times to agree on several details. He sends Derek the final presentation for a check and fails not to preen at the positive response. He arrives at the university half hour ahead of agreed time. Instead of standing around aimlessly and fidgeting himself into a panic attack, he heads for Derek’s office. He knocks on the door and Derek’s voice invites him in, in the process firing his heart into a tramping rhythm. Taking a deep breath, Stiles walks in and freezes.

Freezes because he has not seen Derek in a year and the realization of how much he has missed the man lands a full attack on him. Freezes because Derek looks just as perfect as Stiles remembers him. Freezes because Derek is not alone and Stiles never forgot her face, the woman whom he saw walking out of the restaurant a year ago embracing his professor.

“Hello, professor. Sorry to interrupt,” he offers, weakly.

Derek rises from his chair and so does his companion.

“Hello, Stiles,” he provides with a smile. “You are early.”

“Yes, I made the drive today. Classroom’s busy.”

He is standing at the door, which is half-open, and peaking inside. Fire flares in his cheeks when Derek says, “Well, come on in.”

He closes the door behind himself and approaches the desk. The woman, dressed in an elegant black dress smiles at him like a predator at its pray, and introduces herself, “Cora Hale. Nice to meet you.”

Stiles feels like someone threw a cauldron of boiling water over his skin. He has imagined hundreds of different scenarios on how the meeting would go, but being introduced to Derek’s wife was nowhere near close to what his mind conjured, but far more painful. He nods, manages a smile and decides to be cordial. “Stiles Stilinski. Good to meet you, too.”

Derek speaks up. “Take a seat, please. We have some time and there really is no reason to wait outside the classroom.” Once they are seated, Derek offers, “Cora is the other speaker I mentioned in my mails. So, which one of you is first?”

Cora flips her hair, and states, “I am, obviously.” Simultaneously, Stiles provides, “I am a firm believer ladies should go first.” Cora smiles at him and it lights her entire face up. As much as Stiles is loath to admit it, she is beautiful.

Derek’s eyes flicker to Stiles’ face, before his professor snorts. “Cora is not a lady.”

Stiles finches and Derek clearly catches the movement. His brows furrow, so Stiles moves his gaze to Cora, to find her eyes are narrowed and he gets the feeling all hell is going to break loose in a second.

Derek rises his brows at Cora, as if to say _you are not_. The tension dissipates. To Stiles he comments, “Inside joke. Well, that’s settled. You all set?”

“Yeah, my laptop and all that.” Stiles comments, then cringes.

Derek’s lips quirk. “Good to know you didn’t borrow trash from a friend. We don’t want everything to crash mid-presentation, now do we?”

When Cora pipes up, her voice is panicky. “Derek, you have my presentation on yours, right?”

“Yes, I copied everything from your laptop last night.” Cora’s brows furrow, so Derek elaborates, “You were dead to the world. And, you are welcome.”

“Yes, my hero,” she deadpans. “You try keeping up with Laura and mum with wedding preparations for a week.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “I did, Cora. Last month. A full month. You are squealing after a week.”

“It is more intense now.”

“You were assigning seats, deciding on make-up and shoes and confirming reservations. I got dragged all over the area looking at venues and trying different foods, due to which I gained 5 pounds, and booking entertainment, which I have little interest in.”

Stiles can’t say those five pounds show on Derek. He has not changed a bit. One thing is different in their interactions – Stiles had never felt as much of an outsider before as he does sitting in Derek’s office and watching his interaction with _his freaking wife_.

“Yes, brother of the century.”

That concludes the conversation. Derek beams at Cora and then gestures for them to get going.

The class passes without a glitch. Cora is every bit as confident a speaker as Derek. Stiles might be slightly envious, but his fidgety self does well enough to keep him happy. He glances at Derek several times during his timeframe and on few of those occasions he catches him in hushed conversation with Cora. It hurts, because he doesn’t understand why Derek invited him as a guest, when he doesn’t bother listening to what Stiles has to say. He would think the invite was to rub his happiness in Stiles’ face, but he knows Derek is not like that. Derek thanks them at the end of class. Stiles is too weak to keep from smiling.

When they exit the lecture hall, Cora is first to speak. “I have to go. Laura promised to call for the flower arrangements. I will see you later. You are helping me tonight!” Cora kisses Derek’s cheek and rushes off. “Bye, Stiles.”

“Bye.” Stiles feels he and Cora would have been great friends if they had met under any other circumstances.

Derek follows her retreat until she rounds the corner. He then glances at Stiles. “I am sorry about her. She can be too much.”

“No apologies needed. I liked her.” Stiles mentally face plants at his choice of words, but Derek smiles.

“You would. Anyway, how’ve you been?”

“Good. I spent the year home, mostly freelancing. You?”

“Well, between my lectures and research, tired, but great.” Derek tucks his palms in his front pockets, thumbs resting out over the denim. He sways forward slightly and asks, “Would you like to grab coffee? I’d like to catch up and I’ve got some free time now.”

Derek is nonchalant about his invitation, Stiles imagines because he never really felt anything for his student. Something Stiles cannot say about himself in relation to the man standing before him. He knows he should decline, go back to his car and return back home. The words are at the tip of his tongue, being the wise thing to do. But, a painful tug in his chest is what doesn’t allow him to walk away from Derek. He says yes.

When they place their order and command a table, Stiles realizes, “I am sorry, I completely forgot. Congratulations!” He flails in his seat, tugs on his tie and rearranges it. When he glances towards Derek he finds the man’s eyes glued to his fingers.

“Thanks, Stiles.” Derek positively beams. “I will pass it along to Laura.”

“Yeah, Laura, too. But, I meant you, Professor Hale.”

“Me?” Derek sounds confused, which _weird_.

“You and Cora.”

The more Derek remains quiet, his eyes fixed at Stiles and his expression passive, the more Stiles feels uneasy. He had hoped Derek would thank him and that would put a stop to that particular conversation.

Derek is silent for a moment, several emotions flickering on his face, before he finally settles on, “What about us?”

“Your marriage.”

“My marriage.” Derek makes a face. “To Cora?”

Stiles runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah?”

“Cora is my younger sister.”

The date Derek had refused him over almost a year ago had been his sister. Stiles wants the earth to open up and swallow him. “I thought you were…” Stiles breathes in and out, aware his mouth is parted, which is not exactly the handsomest of expressions, though he can’t help himself.

Derek’s hand lands on his. “Stiles, are you alright?” His professor looks like he is expecting a panic attack.

“I’m okay,” Stiles reassures. “Just processing. I still owe you a shirt, I can’t afford to ruin this one, as well.”

Derek moves his hand, lays back in his seat. “So, you thought I was married?”

“I saw you together, leaving the restaurant, about a year ago. Wow, that sounds more like a creepy stalker than what I was going for. Anyhow, when she said Hale, I just assumed. You never mentioned her, was I expected to know?”

“No, of course not.” Derek locks their gazes, unrelenting. “When you asked me on that date, I would have said yes. I was going to say yes, but you ran out and away, before I could get a word out. The initial ‘no’ was because I already had a dinner set with Cora.” Derek exhales, shakily. “I didn’t chase after you that day, because I thought you needed space, Stiles. I thought I was going to see you the next day, I thought… I don’t know what I thought. If I had known it would be a year before I saw you again, I would have ran after you, explained everything, said yes. I don’t know.” His eyes are boring into Stiles honestly, Stiles is shaking with happiness. “That said, because it is definitely my turn, Stiles would you like to go out with me, on a date, sometimes?”

“So many things have changed from last year. We are certainly not the same people. We might not have the same dynamics, but yes, I’d love to.” He begins, thinks better of it as he is not ready for another miscommunication, and places his cards openly on the table, “Before we do, I’d like you to know something. If you change your mind afterwards, I don’t think you would, but if you do, I am not going to throw a tantrum. I am going to be disappointed, but I will understand.”

“This is a prep talk for ‘I’m a convict.’”

Stiles smirks. “Can we go someplace less crowded?”

“Yeah, sure.” Derek drops a bill on the table and ushers Stiles out the door.

“My panic attacks started after my mother passed away. I’ve told you,” Stiles glances at Derek, seeking confirmation of him remembering and once Derek gives it, he proceeds, “I blamed myself for her death. I was in a bad place, last year. I almost committed suicide several times. My last low moment was after I saw you and Cora walk out of the restaurant together, and I am not telling you this to inflict guilt.” Stiles grasps Derek’s hand. “That is the last thing on my mind, please believe.”

“I understand, Stiles. It’s okay. Go on.”

“I was dealing with misplaced guilt, depression, loneliness and constant thoughts about ending my life. If I didn’t have dad to think about, I wouldn’t be here right now. Scott, who is a great friend and I don’t blame him for his ignorance because obliviousness is like his grandest trait, didn’t know anything and I couldn’t spoil his happiness, when his relationship with Alison was going great. He wasn’t there for me, even if it was not his fault. Lydia, another close friend of mine and my high school crush, was busy with her boyfriend at the time and whenever I called her to talk about something serious she dismissed my comments. I don’t think she meant to, but I was a sarcastic ass, and I still am, but I was sarcastic on my good days and I think she considered that I was joking or being just blah when I needed real support. The one true friend I had last year, it was you. You talked me out of panic attacks, you shared opinions of trivial matters, you debated on the meaning of every important thing with me. You made me see I needed to make a change in my life.” He glances at Derek, who is already looking at him, and smirks, “No pressure.”

Derek smiles. “No, of course not.”

“So, after I got back home, I spoke with my dad. I told him how I felt, and he was so heart-broken for not seeing it, Derek. And, I think his heart broke over again when I told him he was not supposed to know, that I was keeping it hidden from him, as I was from everyone else. We found a psychologist and I started therapy. I am better, but there is still a long way to go. So, yeah.”

“And, you think I am going to object to you going to therapy?”

“Some people are jerks about it, what do I know? I told you, I don’t think you would mind, but it is your decision. And, I was not speaking strictly about the therapy thing. I meant everything in general.”

“It would be pretty hypocritical of me, considering I have a therapist I visit regularly. Stiles, I would only object to something, if it did you harm.”

“Thanks.”

“I know what it’s like to feel weakness, which feeds the urge for suicide. I understand better than you might imagine the need for therapy, someone to listen to you talk without disregarding your every word.”

Derek collapses into one of the benches on his right and Stiles takes a seat beside him. Supporting his elbows over his knees and interlocking his fingers, Derek begins, “I was sixteen when I met Kate. She started working at the local library and we used to go there for tutoring, whether a tutor or a tutee. That’s how I met her. She was beautiful and smart. Not to mention older, and more mature than my classmates. In one, desirable. When she singled me out of the group, I believed myself in love with her. In a fortnight, we started dating.” He rubs at the back of his neck. “My grades started slipping, because I spent all my time with her. She kept telling me if I loved her I would spend all my free time with her, how it would prove to her my love. So, I did it and my studying took a hit. When my parents found out on the teacher-parent conference, they confronted me and I confessed I was seeing someone. An ultimatum came about, if I could keep my grades up I wouldn’t need to end my relationship. I spent time with Kate after school and studied at night. I barely slept in order to keep up with everything.”

Derek breathes in deeply. “Two months into our relationship, she started filling my head with negative thoughts. From disrespecting my meal choices to insistence that no one but her was ever going to love me as I was unworthy. I was skinny on an unhealthy scale, baby faced and with ears disproportional to my face, so I believed her degrading words, her predictions of my future without her. That kick-started several serious issues I could have done without. Laura was the one who noticed I was shutting myself out. Laura had always teased me about my ears, good-naturedly, long before Kate. One day, she noticed something, a flinch or a grimace, but she never told me what. She walked in my room and told me I had to tell her what was happening, what was wrong. I looked up to Laura growing up, so I told her everything. How Kate treated me, how she kept trying to force herself on me. Laura urged me to break it off. I did. My sister told our parents nothing, but she was by my side all the time.”

Derek scrapes at his beard, giving Stiles a weak smile. Stiles doesn’t know what to say, so he waits until Derek proceeds. “I didn’t see Kate for a while, but she called me one evening and said she wanted to meet so she could properly apologize. It was Laura and I at home only, as the rest of the family was with mum out of town on an event of sorts. I brought Laura along. Well, she insisted to go with me. Kate never arrived to the agreed spot and after a while we headed back home. We found her in front of our burning home, laughing in delight like she was at the world’s best party. She had thought with my family gone, I’d have no choice but to go back to her. Kate was arrested for both arson and attempted murder, because she kept yapping away how she had killed them and they couldn’t stop us from dating anymore. She didn’t know my folks were out of town. She kept bragging she had used the knowledge of the house I had shared with her to find the best spots to start the fire. Her lawyer went with the insanity plea, quite rightfully, and she was placed in a mental hospital. Everything she ever said to me came out during the trail. I thought my parents would be furious with me, but –” Derek shakes his head, not finishing the sentence. “We found out her father was also institutionalized at the time. All I know, if my family had been at home, I would have lost them forever. I am grateful they weren’t, because it would have been not my fault, but certainly on me. I thank a higher power daily for having Laura come with me to meet Kate that night. Had she stayed home, I don’t even want to think about it. I started therapy halfway through the trial.”

Stiles knew about the Hale fire, everyone in Beacon Hills did, and even if they didn’t, he couldn’t have avoided it, as his dad was the lead on the case. He just never knew the particulars, he never knew what had happened to Derek, how all had transpired, Derek’s point of view. He offers, “At least, the Argent family is now divided into two sections. People know which one is the half to keep away from.”

Derek side-tracks. “Wait, you know the Argents?”

“Scott is dating Allison Argent, Chris’ daughter. Also, I am from Beacon Hills, too.”

“What?” Derek pauses. “Stilinski, wait. You are the Sheriff’s kid?”

Stiles beams. “One and only.”

“Oh, shit! I’m getting shot, aren’t I?”

“My dad might show you his private gun collection just for fun.” Stiles bumps his shoulder against Derek’s. “You are not going to chicken out on me?”

“I do data analysis for fun. Guns don’t scare me.”

Stiles gives a toothy smile. “Tell that to my dad’s face.”

“Be my date for the wedding and I will,” Derek bargains.

“Deal.”

“Good.”

When he returns back home that night he can’t stop smiling. The Sheriff asks him how it went and Stiles knows his dad is teasing, because it is obvious by Stiles expression how amazing a day he’s had. His dad readies bacon for dinner and Stiles can’t gather strength to argue him over it, so he lets it slide. He makes him eat salad for the rest of the week to call it even.

 

When the wedding day arrives, Derek wakes up to a phone call from Stiles. Stiles doesn’t give him a moment for proper greeting, before he is babbling in the phone, “It had to be the wedding where you introduced me to your family, really? Now I am panicking about my outfit, even though I am not overflown with choices. I spent the night restlessly shifting in my bed, which was pointless, so I got up and tried writing a code which could predict all possibilities of the day going wrong, which was even more pointless. And, I am stressing and walking a hole in my carpet, which is pretty and I like it very much, so if it thins because of this, you are buying me a new one, and I expect an apology. I told you I should have spent the night. When I am alone, I overthink, and not that I wouldn’t have done it with you by my side and shifted the anxiousness to you in addition, as well, but at least there would have been other ways, pythonizing your family’s gathering aside, to wear me off. A code, Derek! An eight hundred line code! I built your family tree, researched likes and dislikes of as many of your relatives as I could find, and…”

“Stiles!” Derek cuts him off effectively. “Nothing is going to go wrong. My family will be too busy terrorizing each other to assault you. Therefore, if you could relax and breathe for me, it would be lovely.” He waits a brief moment, before asking, “Better?”

Stiles’ response is calmer, “Much.”

“Good.” He smirks, before offering. “Now, you remember what I told you about my uncle?”

Stiles’ outraged cry of “Derek!” has him grinning into the phone, as he leaves his bed to get ready and pick up his wonderful boyfriend for his sister’s big day. Derek couldn’t be happier. Neither could Stiles.


End file.
